


All The World's a Stage

by Vanr



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Theater AU, there is some swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanr/pseuds/Vanr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theater AU Prompts</p><p>"Prompt 1: You keep throwing your props off the stage into the pit and I keep stealing them and not giving them back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The World's a Stage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts).



Roderich was supposed to toss the cigarette when the musical number was over. He quite approved of the action, although it wasn’t his idea. The gesture was supposed to be symbolic, a way of showing the audience that although his character hadn’t changed outwardly, he’d been touched on the inside. A character who’d started off as unshakable, showing everyone that he perhaps, could change.

In this, he did relate to the character he played onstage. He often felt like an uptight, unchangeable type of person, but he knew that this impression wasn’t quite true. Anyone could change. Even him. 

He was supposed to toss his cigarette into a trash can, which was, in fact, a prop on stage. That trash can was the most iffy prop of them all, though. The young man on trash can duty wasn’t in the crew or in the cast; he was one of the pit orchestra kids. And while he had no personal issues against the band kids… they unnerved him. Ah, perhaps 'unnerved' wasn’t quite the right word.

Of all the people involved in the production, they easily cared the least about the show. They had sounded like absolute shit until about a week before opening night, finally managing to sound like a band at pretty much the last possible moment. They lurked in the band room instead of talking to the other people involved. They only left the band room when they ventured into the cafeteria, and even then, they only did so when they ran out of the food they’d bought at the grocery store across the street. During actual run-throughs, they would simply sit, mutter to one another constantly, occasionally asking questions about music. Mostly, they’d just sit and play through their music.

This behavior manifested itself during rehearsals, but when the show was actually on, it was no different. During performances, they simply sat. They talked to one another in hushed voices, they played their music, and they got up and left immediately when intermission was called. They showed up half an hour before the show started, and they left as soon as the show ended. 

Even when they weren’t playing, they were easily distinguished from the other members of the cast and crew. They wore all black suits (their uniform, sure, but it was still unsettling). They lurked in groups, establishing a clear separation of band kids and other kids. It wasn’t like the whole band lurked, though. They tended to congregate in small clumps, picking up stray or singular band kids easily. They screwed around in the lounge. They had loud conversations that were very lively, until someone they didn’t know tried to join in. Then they silenced themselves, becoming oddly closed off until the person left. 

They were annoying and strange, to cap it all off.

Easily, the worst offender was the kid on trash can duty. His job, aside from playing music, was to move the prop trash can onstage whenever the scene was set in the Save a Soul Mission. And, while he did his job dutifully, something about him unnerved Roderich, who tended not to trust people he found strange anyway.

When Roderich caught the band, socializing in their small groups, he saw that they generally fell into the same sort of cliques. The young man on trash can duty was usually by himself or with the equally shady looking young man who sat in front of him in the orchestra. A woodwind player, Roderich knew him to be. Not that he knew either one of them personally. 

Their friendship was a strange one to observe. One moment, they’d be conversing a serious topic, each wearing the sober face of someone who understands the true meaning behind each word. A moment later, they’d be smiling or laughing at something, clearly discussing something one or both found amusing. Every other time Roderich saw them interacting, they were being grade A dicks to each other.

Whatever worked, he supposed.

Trash can kid had pale hair and crimson eyes, and wore a devilish smirk pretty much all the time. He definitely fit the bill of a mischief maker. But he played french horn, and Roderich had spent years in orchestra. He generally knew french horn players to be serious minded and hardworking people.

What had gone wrong with this guy? Any other french horn player wouldn’t steal any props, and probably would have been offended by even thinking about doing such things.

The french horn stereotypes didn't change anything. Every night, he threw his cigarette into the trash can. Every night, he went back and his cigarette was gone. Every night, he foolishly hoped that the french horn player would forget his childish prank and just leave the goddamn cigarette in the trash can. He’d made those cigarettes himself, dammit, and that little shit kept stealing them. And at this point, it was just getting annoying. 

Tonight was closing night. He had six left, and he’d started off with twenty. Damn that asshole. 

But now, ten minutes before the house opened, Roderich made his way into the auditorium, hoping to catch at least one of the band kids. He was hoping to ask for them back, now that the show was nearly over. Surely, the boy would give them back. There was really no point in keeping them. 

He’d lucked out, it seemed. The trash can kid and his friend were out in the pit, putting stand lights on the stands and aggressively shining the lights into each other's’ eyes. The shorter one, trash can kid’s friend, had messy brown hair and open, green eyes. He looked kindly, almost too kindly to even be friends with the pale, red eyed french horn player. Definitely too kindly to be doing such a rude thing to another person, whoever that other person might be. 

What the fuck is wrong with these people? Roderich thought, as he neatly stepped into the chair rows of the orchestra and found himself directly in front of trash can kid.

“Excuse me,” he began, trying to be polite. “I do believe you are the person Mister Kirkland asked to be on trash can duty.”

“That’s him!” said trash can’s friend, sending a shit-eating grin to his friend. Not so kind, after all. “Trash Can, in the flesh! Please, no flash photography. It scares the nerds.” 

Trash can kid looked mildly annoyed at this introduction, but didn’t say anything. 

Roderich had no business with this other boy, whoever they were or however annoying they also happened to be. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his box of cigarettes, flipping open the top expertly. 

“This box was full last week,” Roderich explained. “I know it can be tempting to take them, but there’s no need to. It’s childish and quite rude. Please return them.”

He ignored trash can’s friend, who’d begun laughing like an ass about half a sentence into the beginning of his brief speech. Whoever trash can chose to associate himself with was none of his business.

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and his smile faded slightly. “That’s quite an accusation,” he replied levely, eyes betraying nothing. Staring into the boy’s eyes made him uncomfortable (they were red, who could blame him?) and he found himself looking down and away. Silence broke out between the three boys for several moments before trash can kid’s friend saved the conversation.

“Dude, Gilbert, what about that one you found on Feli’s stand?” said trash can’s friend, grin gone and replaced by a mild and thoughtful frown. 

Gilbert, or whatever his name was, looked over at his friend, blinking. “I gave it to Mister Kirkland,” he said honestly. He turned back to look at Roderich, shrugging. “Sorry, man. Good luck tonight, anyway.”

“Good luck,” echoed trash can’s friend, sending Roderich a smile and a thumbs up. One second later, he was using the momentary distraction to catch Gilbert off guard and shine the stand light into his face.

Roderich was taken aback. The two seemed to show true honesty and a shred of decency, but only for a moment. Then they were transformed -as if by magic- into assholes once more. Roderich figured he’d go now, and left just in time to avoid a scuffle as the two boys began wrestling for the stand light. Gilbert was significantly taller than the other boy, and managed to wrench the light away. 

He turned the light’s switches on in one fluid motion, and shined the light back at his friend, who was squinting. The boy ducked, but Gilbert followed him. The boy knocked the standlight out of Gilbert’s hand, and it fell onto the ground with a decisive clattering noise.

There was a moment of silence, and then, right as Roderich was about to exit the room, he heard the voice of the other boy saying, “You still have that cigarette you stole from Feli, don’t you?”

Roderich turned around in a snap, eyes narrowing in anger. Gilbert was smiling broadly, holding a small, white-and-tan colored tube of paper. It was the cigarette prop that he had ‘given to Mister Kirkland.’ That bastard!

Gilbert met Roderich’s eyes and calmly put the cigarette in his mouth, lips pulling up into a bigger smile around the cigarette balanced in his teeth. Roderich huffed in anger, although he felt it turn into a sigh almost immediately. 

He supposed he had no choice but to give up. In the lawless country of the band, it seemed they respected no one. 

He didn’t care anymore. He had six cigarettes left, and it was closing night. It honestly didn’t matter anymore.

That didn’t stop him from swearing the shit out of them, anyway, all through the closing night performance.

Goddamn those fucking band kids.

**Author's Note:**

> Gilbert plays french horn only because his role in this story is based off a friend of mine who plays french horn. 
> 
> The play they're putting on is Guys and Dolls.
> 
> Roderich, in this story, plays the character Harry the Horse. He will not be in this role in every chapter.
> 
> (Gingeh, don't get on me for the beginning I had to create context and THE BAND WASN'T ALLOWED TO WATCH THE PLAY SO FIGHT ME)


End file.
